Let Me Go (2)
by PanceaYugen
Summary: Sequel to Let Me Go: Violet and Tate still have troubles, and the new guy to move into the house, Charlie, has a thing for Violet- and as usual, the rest of the ghosts still don't act normal. (This isn't as good as the first one, but it can be improved upon- all suggestions welcome).


Bold

He looked at her as if the light in her eyes was the reason that flowers bloomed- the reason that he ever smiled, and the reason for existence of all things- but this light was going out. As her eyes grew cold once again, this blonde boy soaked her face with his tears as he leaned over her, apologising. "_I'm so sorry, Violet,"_ he sobbed, "I_'m so sorry"_. She had never felt this type of pain before, and as humans know best about pain is that when it's a kind you haven't felt before, it's worse than anything you could imagine.

She faded out.

A few moments later, after her soul had re-energized, she awoke with her head in his lap once again. Violet disappeared from him, her face emotionless. She reappeared back over Avis's huddled and crying self. She knelt beside him, wrapping her arms around this warm, alive body. She cried with him. "_You're okay_," she whispered in a way that could have soothed an erupting volcano. Violet hugged him tighter and she could see the upper part of his face, fearing everything he just saw and everything she was.

Tate just continued to cry, less-so, sad-faced and watching her from nearby shadows. "Vi-" the three of them heard a weak voice calling out. The other members of the house just watched all of this happening (from their invisible states), sadened that such lovely people could have lived such a horror story. Even though they had a tendency to bring it onto people, this was after they had seen so much pain, so much sadness, and why did it have to keep happening?

Violet flickered out of focus, Avis feeling the pressure from her arms slowly drift. She stood looking down at Rian's dead body. She flickered once more, in a instant she closed his eyelids and then stood looking over him again. Tate grew colder as he watched her thoughts change her body for her.

Her face grew weary, and he could see the worry in her face as clear as day. As she turned away from Rian and started walking towards the back door, Avis crawled over to his brother. Violet grew more and more worried, her quick pace turning into a jog, and then into a run calling out "Charliee!?". She looked at eye level around the kitchen, "Charlie!?"

She stepped forward, her right foot making a splashing sound. Her eyes grew wide as she looked down at the puddle of blood she'd set foot in. Violet's gaze slowly moved forward on the floor, following the source of it all. First she saw the hip of his jeans, then she saw the bashes and tears in his flesh, covered in blood, viewing his body from an angle. With the last two seconds of breath he was allowed, he called out "_Lucy,"_ which had still been quietly undulating through the air (although he'd already passed).

"**No no no no no no,**" she cried out, hugging his bloody body. The household had moved unseen around the house to watch her. It was all her parents could do to keep from stepping in. With one last loud, painful sob she shrieked, "**no!"**

O' Death

Ghosts of dark feathers, like floating ink marks drifted throughout the air that evening, almost like they trailed behind Violet. Violet could feel the cold, thin feathers falling from behind her. She turned and chased after them as they led her outside and over to the gazebo, where the fairy-lights flickered. Tate stood a few feet away from it, seemingly banned or just unwanted.

She, he, it- it was too dark to see the actual figure or face of. It was just cloaked in darkness and black ink that faded after a few seconds when it touched anything. "Bring him back," Violet was shedding tears which didn't compromise well with its ink. She was standing, hovering over the tail of it that spread out like a ballgown on the floor. Its voice was like a whisper, a middle tone between male and female voices, it was like the feeling you get in your spine when you're scared except in words.

"Four words need to be exchanged altogether and then it shall be considered, its dependence is on the importance of these words and the naturality of your belief in them," it's voice even made Tate feel colder.

Violet ran into the kitchen, after Charlie with high hopes. She didn't even stop to think about what these words were, she just knew she needed her friends, she needed mutual love, she needed these anchors she grew with like roots. Tate screamed at Death, "no! Stop this! Stay out of it!" as he ran inside after her. He stood inside the doorway, watching her. ~To Build A Home, The Cinematic Orchestra~.

She smiled while still crying as she rushed to Charlie, kneeling beside him. Violet wasn't aware of the importance of these next words as keenly as most people would have been. "_Lucy," _Charlie whispered to her in such a pleased voice. She smiled and laughed so happily at him- his sweetness, his hand still warm as it rested on her cheek, she laughed at how ordinary other people had it- other people may have been living, but they... _they were existing._ "I love you," her words even sounded like she was smiling.

He gasped deeply all of a sudden, his eyes unfocusing and his head turning away. His arm went limp as Violet feared everything had been done wrong. But, _what was even "wrong" anymore?_ Unexpectedly, he took a deep breath. Out of relief, Violet adjusted herself next to him, her head on his chest. It was as if she were staying there just to ensure his breaths would continue. "He's just sleeping," Death frightened her, so she clung tighter with her arm around him.

Tate loved to see her happy, and despite his severe pain, he left her alone. It felt like chewing ice on raw nerves, but he'd do it for her.

Colourblind

Morning came with the smell of Moira making coffee on the other side of the island in the kitchen. Charlie had already been awake, but was assuring her continuous breathes by watching her. As she awoke, she sat up quickly, "sorry," she started to apologise and then realised she wasn't so sure what she was supposed to say. "_Lucy_," he smiled as he recalled her last few words to him, "my gone yet here, Lucy."

The front door rustled about a bit before opening- Roger coming home at five in the morning. Violet was yawning as he stood up, no blood on the floor-just ink, but tears in his clothes and rips in his skin still remained. He winced in pain, but tried to hide it. One of his warm hands lent itself down to her. She grabbed it, using it only slightly to help raise her to her feet. Roger came into the kitchen, looking Moira up and down by the coffee pot. She gave him a nasty look and handed him a cup of coffee which he proceeded to bring over to a stool. "So she's spending nights here now? You're fucking _already_?!" he laughed.

They just ignored him, just looking at each other. "Well I guess two whores _would_ make a good couple," he antagonized. "Look who's talking," Moira snapped as she hid her smile for the only two to have still made it. "O n, Charlie-boy here knows I'm only _joking_," he said as he slapped Charlie's stomach with the back of his hand.

Charlie bent over a bit, holding his stomach before trying to straighten himself out to appear fine. Violet clasped her hand into his and led him out of there and into the bathroom. He sat up on the washing-machine (it was a fairly large bathroom), as she proceeded to gather a few tools and other medical _ from various places around the room. Violet proceeded to lift up his shirt to get to the gashes on his stomach and the scrapes on his upper torso. To make it easier, he just took his shirt off, revealing his beautiful chest.

"Okay, I guess that works too," she said as she then tended to his minor injuries left over from that hectic night. After he was stitched up and his cuts cleaned off, he hopped off of the washing machine. He couldn't stop thinking about what she said, and he couldn't stop questioning whether or not it was all a dream. She watched as he looked off, blankly. She couldn't believe that their little memory was real. That night, the house, her whole previous life, her death, everything compressed into her chest. She reached forward and hugged him tightly, to which Charlie hugged her back.

He breathed in her hair and said softly, "_Violet._" She now lay her hands wrapped around his neck, his hands around her waist. The next breath, they took together, to which they kissed. Of course, that led to making out, then hands wandering from lover to lover. Her shirt (and cardigan) off, she grazed her hands across his stomach and down to his jeans button.

Charlie held his hands against her waist, tucked his thumbs under the edge of her pants, and slid them off. She stopped being as serious to laugh at his failure to unhook her bra. She un-did it and then kissed him again. He slipped off his boxers and lifted her by her waist up onto the washing machine.

Before they'd started, he'd asked "wait, are you a virgin?" his breathing was uneasy and as was hers when she responded, "not technically, no." She sort of smiled sadly. "Uhh... So, no?" he was clearly confused, as he continued to hold her close and bite his lip. "I was alive, he was dead," she stopped anything he could have said by continuing to kiss him and pull him too close to resist.

"Ready?" Charlie asked, not unsure, but nervous. "Oh, come on!" Violet persisted. As he pounded himself into her repeatedly, she let out small moans. Finally when they were both close, she called out, "Charliee" which set him off and then her, almost simultaneously.

Keep

Almost Pretty- The Perishers

When they held hands, it wasn't usually one searching for the other consciously- they'd just found themselves doing it. They held hands like they were jumping off a cliff at all times. When they spoke of each-other it wasn't much said, but more thought- and what was thought was the kind of thing you would read in a poetry book at four in the morning with a cup of tea and a longing for someone.

Tate, of course, can't just leave the story. He can't stop loving her, she can't stop loving him- no matter how much they masquerade it with other people. It will always be there, no matter how many other loves they have in-between, but, for now, that would have settled for Violet.

While laying on his (used to be her) bed, listening to San Cisco, he asked her what seemed like the most important question in the world to her. "_Keep?_" he asked, still having his eyes wandering across the ceiling. The air was deprived of their voices for a while before she'd responded, "keep."

Whilst Tate stood outside of the open doorway, he smiled, while still shedding a tear or two. "You know she still likes _you _better, right?" Hayden's harsh voice penetrated his emotional moment. "No, she likes Charlie- and I'm- I'm okay with that.." he lied. "No no no, she likes _you_, it's just she thinks you raped her mom. I mean, she forgave you for the murders and scary shit earlier right? It was just the mom thing that pissed her off.." she always had to poke everything dead with a stick. "Yeah, I guess, but she never let me explain-" he looked over his shoulder to find she had disappeared.

Cheat

KNOCK KNOCK.

He knocked on the door frame as Charlie jumped, and sat in front of Violet. Violet got off the bed to walk towards him, but Charlie put his arm in front of her to signal her to get behind him. "It's fine, I can't die," Violet went across the room to him. "What are you doing here?" Violet crossed her arms. "I want to talk to you," Tate tried to walk towards her, but she backed up.

"Charlie, could we have a minute?" she asked, and then he whispered to her, "_just try to make him stop..."_ and silently left the room.

"What did you want to talk about?" she was already done with the conversation from the beginning, even though she had missed him.

"I want to know what you're mad at me for," Tate was allowed a few steps closer.

"Are you kidding me?!"

"No, I mean, what are you mad at me for _exactly_..."

"Uh, murdering everyone, being an asshole- oh or how about raping my mom!" Violet shifted her position.

"Okay, well let's talk about that last one then, I didn't rape her, not really anyways.." Tate defended himself, "I mean, 'hey your house is haunted and weird shit keeps happening? Then let's not question the possibility of this kid in a suit _not _being my husband' I mean you have to admit, that was pretty ridiculous. Plus, she was willing! She came onto me, and it wasn't really rape-"

Violet interrupted him, "so it wasn't rape, it was just you CHEATING ON ME WITH MY FUCKING MOM."

Charlie could hear everything from the room below, and the rest of the dead household found it nothing but amusing.

"Well there used to be a reason for it, but also I mean, I'm a psychopath, right? So, wouldn't you expect a little murder?"

"_Go away Tate__**.**__" _Violet said quietly.

"No, come on, Violet, please!" he whined.

"_Tate, leave me __**alone**__!"_

Charlie ran upstairs and into the room to see Violet with her hands covering her eyes and Tate gone. Violet had explained a few things about the situation before, so he didn't bother to ask.

Roger-that

A few months later.

Moira was looking as young as ever to Roger, this time dusting his room right as he got out of the shower. He sat on his bed, drying his short-ish hair off with the towel that had once been covering his body. Moira started undressing a bit, leaving pieces of the maid-outfit on. As she rubbed herself across his cock, she pushed him back onto the bed and moved herself back a bit, trailing her tongue across his stomach lower and lower.

Of course she always had some new trick up her sleeve, she did have similar patterns to her methods. About four minutes after she'd started, she started to use teeth. After that she started drawing blood and not letting him pull back. Then, finally, blood splattered all up his stomach, neck, and chin (and all over her face). He'd screamed "Aghh! You fucking bitch!" he panicked, trying to do something but there was nothing to do. She'd bitten it off.

Roger had been gone a few days, without saying a thing to Charlie. He was in the hospital, getting serious medical attention to the part of his body which used to hold all his pride.

The importance of this part of this American horror story being shared is that of when this occurred. It was October 30th. Tomorrow, they were _free._ Even if just for one night, it meant everything to them.

Try

It rained the night before all hollows eve. The evening air smelled so farmiliar, as Charlie and Violet sat together on the brick edge at the house. She slowly explained the following night to him, how she could leave. After that she just sat there, admiring the rain in a way he couldn't quite grasp. It was her untangable thing- something she could see and something he couldn't- he felt somehow left out.

After Charlie made some excuse to go inside, Violet felt an unnerving presence. A bold boy appeared sitting next to her, leaning against one of the brick pillars- the both of them sitting how they used to. "What do you want, Tate?" Violet asked in her bothered voice.

"Just hear me out, Vi," he pleaded, "I just want a few minutes of your time-" she stopped him from speaking, "not now Tate."

"No, I don't mean right now- I mean tomorrow," he caught her eye at the same time she caught his. "What?" she sounded almost as if she could start crying, like the voice she used when Tate scared her a while back- when she started to find out she was dead.

"I'm sure you can take a few minutes break from your _boyfriend_ to just go for a walk with me," he requested. "Tate, I-" Violet faced the door, ready to walk away, "come on, please? I won't pull anything, I promise," Tate was desperate for her to say yes.

"I'll try, I guess," she whined unsurely. "You promise?" he asked. "I said I'll try," Violet left for the house.

Her and Charlie proceeded to make plans for the coming night, Violet with-holding her soon-to-be attempt for time with Tate.

_To Be Continued_


End file.
